May The Valar Keep You
by Laurina Lex
Summary: Legolas is brought to Rivendell with an illness unheard of among elves. When Elrond cannot find a cure, Aragorn witnesses his friend suffer and swears to heal him on his own, even as Legolas's pain threatens to break both of their spirits. Pre-FOTR.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: **_**An Arrival in the Night**_

The horse's hooves thundered beneath the king as he rode with urgency westward across the country. His cloak billowed out behind him in the wind, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. Nearly three days they had travelled, only stopping to rest twice. The king cast a worried glance down to the slender figure seated before him on his steed. The figure was huddled against the king's chest in his own cloak, the hood obscuring most of his face. The king raised his eyes to the horizon again, where the last fiery rays of the sun were still visible. Above them, a few stars were scattered across the darkening sky.

"Avo 'osto, ion nin [Fear not, my son]," Thranduil whispered. "Imladris is near."

"Ada [Father]..." came the weak reply.

The rider urged his horse on, dusk settling quickly around them.

Lord Elrond was pacing in his chambers, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. His mind was deep in thought. He glanced out into the night every now and then, his brow creased with concern. On the mahogany writing table, illuminated by the many candles in their iron brackets, lay the letter he had received mere days ago. It bore the wax seal of the Mirkwood king, Thranduil. Elrond picked it up delicately as he passed the table again, and scanned the elegantly written words for the third time that evening. The contents of the letter drew a tug of compassion and anxious concern from his heart. Thranduil's son, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, had fallen seriously ill; the king was bringing him to Elrond for his exceptional healing skills. Elrond gently placed the letter on the table again and resumed his pacing. The healer closed his eyes, the wrinkle in his forehead deepening with his frown. It was not simply that Legolas was ill that worried him.

The gallop of a horse came to him on the night air, the sound moving closer and becoming louder, punctuating the serenity of the late evening. Elrond quickly exited his chambers, and no sooner were the gates of Imladris in sight did the Mirkwood king and his horse burst through them. Thranduil pulled his horse up short by the reins, the great animal skidding slightly on the fallen leaves, but it did not protest. Thranduil quickly dismounted and turned to help his son down, but Legolas simply blinked slowly at him, a look of pained confusion on his fair features. The younger elf was still huddled in his cloack, his fingers entangled in the horse's mane as if he would disappear to the halls of Mandos if he slackened his grip.

"Come, Legolas, ion nin."

Thranduil took his son into his arms and gently helped him dismount, but no sooner had the hands of the Mirkwood prince left the horse's mane did they clutch at the front of his father's robes, and Thranduil thought it best not to have him walk. The king held his son close and spoke quietly to him in Sindarin in hopes of comforting him while the lord of Imladris approached.

"Mae govannen [Welcome]," Elrond greeted softly when he was only within a few paces of his guests. He extended his right hand from his heart in greeting, and then his frown returned as he stepped forward to quickly inspect Legolas. The prince turned his gaze to the elf who meant to heal him, but his expression did not change. Elrond was troubled by the hollow, distant look in the younger elf's eyes. They could very well have been looking right through him. Elrond placed the back of his cool hand against Legolas's forehead, but there was no fever to take note of.

"Peace, ernil [prince]," Elrond whispered, gently stroking the younger elf's cheek. "I will do what I may to ease your suffering." He then motioned for Thranduil to follow him.

Elrond swept briskly through his home to his healing chambers, Thranduil close behind. It was near midnight, and Imladris was still and silent, except for the distant, soothing sound of running water. The sudden arrival of Elrond's ancient companion with his ailing son, the strong warrior prince, in his arms, seemed so out of place. Elrond did not let his feelings show, but he was shaken by the prince's condition. Never in all his long years of knowing Legolas had he seen him in such a state, not even when he would return, wounded, to Imlidris with his friends after a hunting trip. Furthering his concern was that Elrond was not familiar with the younger's elf's symptoms Thranduil had described in his letter. The lord of Imladris had never heard of such a sickness among elves.

Elrond pushed open the heavy doors of his healing chambers. He hastily lit a few candles as Thranduil gently laid Legolas down on the soft bed. The king had to pry his son's fingers from the front of his cloak, but when a soft whimper escaped the younger elf's lips, Thranduil held his hand in his. He continued to speak soothingly to him, stroking his hair in an effort to bring some comfort to him.

"Avo 'osto, ion nin," he whispered again. "Be at peace, pen neth [young one]. I am here."

Elrond began his examination of his patient, gently prodding with his fingers to check for any swelling or sign of injury. He took his pulse and listened to his breathing, yet he found nothing abnormal. All the while, Legolas stared up at the ornate ceiling, his features still contorted in obvious discomfort.

"Tell me, ernil, what is it that ails you?" Elrond cupped his cheek and tried to encourage Legolas to look at him. Legolas slowly met his eyes, but within their hollow depths was no other expression than that of pure anguish.

"What is wrong, pen neth?" Elrond tried again. "What causes you suffering?"

"I know not," Legolas finally replied. Then he turned to Thranduil, his distress bleeding into his rising voice. "I know not, ada. I know not! I know not! Nin gohenam [forgive me], ada!"

His shoulders suddenly began to shake. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned his face away, but it did not conceal the racking sobs that came from deep within his chest.

Thranduil felt a stab in his heart and he gathered his son in his ams and held him close as he had done so many years ago when Legolas was a small child.

"Nay, Legolas, there is nothing to forgive," Thranduil breathed softly into Legolas's hair as he wept. It pained the king greatly to see his son suffer so.

Elrond had quietly stepped into the corridor just outside the healing chambers in respect of Thranduil and his son's privacy. He could still hear the prince's muffled sobs, along with his continued cries of "I know not!", through the door. The healer closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with a frustrated sigh. Thranduil had brought Legolas to Imladris because not he nor the elves of Mirkwood knew what ailed the prince. The king had been hopeful the cure was in Imladris. Yet Elrond, for once in his long life and occupation as healer, was at a loss. He knew nothing of what afflicted Legolas. How was he to cure an ailment he had no knowledge of?

Legolas had quieted in his father's arms. Thranduil was rubbing his back, and every now and then Legolas sniffled. When the king felt his son's body relax, he gently lowered him to the soft silk covers again. Legolas let his shoulders and head sink into the many pillows, but he still grasped his father's hand.

"Legolas, I must speak with Lord Elrond in the hall," Thranduil informed him gently, arranging the braids of the warrior prince so he was not laying on them and so he would be more comfortable. When he saw the uneasy look in his son's eyes, he added, "We will be just outside the doors. I will hear if you should need me. We shan't be long."

Legolas gave his father a pleading look, but slowly slackened his grip, and Thranduil was able to free his hand and join Elrond in the corridor. The king of Mirkwood pulled the door until there was only a small crack, through which Legolas could see his back from his position in bed.

"How long since he fell ill?" came Elrond's quiet inquiry.

"Almost six months," Thranduil replied, inclining his head. "At first it was barely noticeable, and he seemed to be well most of the time. But only has he steadily become worse. I have tried everying, as have the healers of Mirkwood." The king raised his eyes to meet the pensive stare of the lord of Imladris. "My son is beyond my care."

Elrond placed his hand gently on the forlorn king's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Hebo estel, mellon nin [Have hope, my friend]," Elrond reassured him. "I will find a way to ease Legolas's pain. I have never failed, and I do not intend to now."

Thranduil nodded slowly at these words. They were spoken with such strength and confidence that he felt much of his anxiety leave him.

"I must return to my kingdom," the king said quietly. "We were still under attack when I departed with Legolas. I cannot be away at length."

Elrond inclined his head at this, expressing that he understood.

"Will you not stay the night? A few more hours will make no difference."

But Thranduil rejected the offer: "I cannot be away from my people any longer. I know my son is in good hands." And with that, the king of Mirkwood turned and reentered the room Legolas now occupied.

"Ada…"

"Shh, be at peace, ion nin," Thranduil soothed, stepping to Legolas's bedside. The younger elf's gaze followed his father's movements. There was still a crease between his eyebrows and his eyes had not changed.

"You will return, now." It was not a question. Legolas had undoubtedly heard what words had been shared in the hall. When Thranduil nodded once, the younger elf went into a sudden panic. Sitting up suddenly, he cried, "Nay, ada, do not leave my side!"

Thranduil lowered himself to the edge of the bed and took hold of both of his sons hands. Legolas stilled his movements and looked into his father's eyes, but his chest continued to rise and fall rapidly.

"Legolas," Thranduil whispered evenly. He had locked gazes with that of his son. The prince had tears in his eyes again, and Thranduil felt another stab in his heart, along with a pang of guilt deep in his stomach. "Amin hiraetha [I am sorry], Legolas. But you know I must return. You are safe here, you know that." The corners of his mouth curved upward in a gentle smile. "So many times you have left Mirkwood for Imladris to visit your friends here."

Legolas let his eyes take in the healing chamber, and for a moment he looked quite confused. Then he noticed Elrond, who had silently entered and now stood by the door, and his breathing returned to normal.

"You are among friends, Legolas Thranduilion," Elrond assured.

Legolas breathed deeply and fell back against the pillows again. Thranduil stroked his hair. "Sleep, Legolas. You must rest, ion nin. The journey has exhausted you. You are safe, pen neth. No harm will come to you here."

"You are sure, ada?" Legolas said softly. He looked very uncertain, but the realm of dreams was beginning to take hold, and the prince had to fight to keep his eyes open.

Thranduil leaned close and took his son's face gently in both of his hands. He looked into Legolas's eyes, smoothing his thin eyebrows with his thumbs. "I promise, Legolas. No harm will come to you." Legolas sighed again, and his entire body relaxed. After only a short moment he was barely aware of his surroundings.

Thranduil placed a gentle kiss above his son's brow. And then, so quiet that even Elrond, with his elvish hearing, had to strain to hear, he whispered: "I Melain berio le [May the Valar keep you]."

Aragorn was shaken from sleep. He pushed himself up and ran a hand through his hair. He had just dreamed that his close friend and companion, Legolas Thranduilion, had fallen seriously ill. He sometimes had dreams about his friends, but they were often pleasant. This, however, had been troubling, and so real that Aragorn noticed his pulse was quickened in terror. He was trembling slightly and his breathing was coming fast. The Dunedan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. It was just a dream. Legolas was probably just as healthy and at a peace as ever.

He laid back against his pillows and let himself be calm. It had been a while since he'd seen Legolas. He had heard that Mirkwood had been attacked several times recently by a growing force in the East, but he did not believe it was anything the realm could not handle. If it was, he would have certainly heard something by now. But he suddenly felt a twinge of fear. What if Legolas had been injured in battle?

Aragorn shook his head and sighed again. Legolas was never the type to be easily wounded. Even on hunting trips, when they had been attacked and outnumbered by goblins, Legolas had never sustained critical injuries. Aragorn could not stop the smile spreading across his face. His friend was too smart and strong to be easily hurt. The enemy would have to go to great lengths to give Legolas a serious wound.

Sleep had just begun to claim him again when the man's ears picked up the sound of voices. He opened his eyes again and turned slightly in his bed so that he was facing his door. For a moment he thought he may have imagined them, but then he heard them again, and they were coming nearer. The man strained to listen. He could tell one of the people speaking was his adar, but the other's voice was unfamiliar. He waited, holding his breath until they passed yet he could not discern any of their conversation. He continued to lay still until they faded away again.

Aragorn frowned and rolled over, putting his back to the door. The man could tell the hour was very late, though it was not yet dawn. Why would his adar be up so late, and with whom? Unless…

He flung the covers off of him and was across his sleeping chamber in two strides. Throwing open the door, he tried to hurry down the corridor without making any noise. Aragorn knew the only reason his adar would be awake and out of bed at this time of night was that something was wrong. And often times, when Elrond was involved, it meant the elf's healing expertise was needed. He passed chamber after chamber, but he did not see his adar, nor anyone else, for that matter. Not until, that is, he came to a balcony that overlooked the entrance to Imladris.

There, mounted on his horse just inside the gates, was an elf wearing a silver tiara. He was seated with such dignity and pride and gave the impression of such strength that Aragorn could only watch with something between respect and awe. The elf was speaking to Lord Elrond, who was only a few paces from him. Aragorn watched as the horse reared onto its hind legs and turned toward the gates, and in but a short moment, the animal and its rider had disappeared.

Aragorn had met the elf only once before, but there was no mistaking him. He was King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and father to Legolas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter I: **_**That Which the Heart Hides**_

Aragorn pulled the door of his sleeping chamber closed behind him. The morning was beautiful. He could hear the song of a lark in the high branches of a tree nearby. The man knotted the tie at the side of his tunic and turned his face upward to be kissed by the warm sunlight, a slight breeze rippling through his hair. But he wasted no time. He turned and went swiftly to his adar's healing chambers.

The Dunedan had intercepted the lord of Imladris as the latter retired to his sleeping chamber just moments after the departure of Thranduil. Together, they had stayed awake in Elrond's study until the sky had begun to lighten and its lower reaches had been stained pink and gold by the hastening sunrise. As he walked, Aragorn recalled the conversation that had unfolded the night before.

"_Ada."_

_Elrond was returning to his chamber after seeing Thranduil off, but at the soud of Aragorn's voice, he halted and turned his head._

"_Estel, what reason have you to be up at this hour?"_

_Aragorn simply waved this question aside. _

"_I could ask you the same. What reason has Legolas's father come here in the middle of the night?"_

_Elrond could not prevent the small smile that pulled at the corners of his lips, despite his worry for the Mirkwood prince. Aragorn and Legolas had known each other since Aragorn was a boy. Once the Dunadan had become old enough, he joined Elladan and Elrohir on their adventures with the prince of Mirkwood when he visited. Elrond knew that for many years, Legolas and Aragorn shared a bond that had long since exceeded that of ordinary friendship. They were much more like brothers or close companions._

"_Come, ion nin," Elrond offered, beckoning with his hand. "It is late, but I know you will not sleep until your questions have been answered."_

_They walked side by side in silence. Upon reaching his study, Elrond let Aragorn enter first before closing the door softly behind them. Aragorn sat at the small table but did not speak until Elrond had lit several candles and poured them both a sweet, mild drink. The man watched his adar expectantly as the lord of Imladris lowered himself into the seat opposite him._

"_I received an urgent letter from Thranduil himself only a few days ago," Elrond began. He did not want to cause Aragorn any grief, yet he would have to be honest about the condition of the Mirkwood prince. The lord of Imladris took a deep breath. _

"_Legolas has fallen ill."_

_Aragorn gave his adar a steady, yet piercing look over the top of his glass, but remained silent. Elrond continued._

"_He has been ill for several months. His father has done everything he can, yet Legolas has only worsened. He decided it may be in his son's favor to bring him to Imladris. Thranduil believes Legolas will better recover here than in Mirkwood."_

_Aragorn leaned back in his chair, eyes focusing beyond Elrond's left shoulder. It took him a moment to digest this information. It was rare indeed for his friend to become ill._

"_You will be able to cure him, ada?" Aragorn inquired, keeping his voice low. When he did not receive a reply, his tone sharpened. "What is happening to Legolas, ada?"_

"_I know not what ails him, Estel," came Elrond's quiet response. His thin lips curved slightly in a sad smile. "I have never seen that of which Legolas suffers among the elves."_

Elrond's words echoed hauntingly in Aragorn's mind. He had been so absorbed in the memory that it took him a moment to realize he had walked right past the healing chambers and was now quite far away.

He was very troubled by the conversation that had transpired the previous night. The man had never known Elrond to encounter an illness or injury for which he had no cure. Aragorn had wanted to visit Legolas as early as sunrise, but his adar had forbidden him from disturbing Legolas's rest. The man turned and slowly backtracked. It was still quite early and he himself had just awoken, but he did not think he could wait any longer to see his friend.

There were golden patches of sunlight on the ivy-embroidered duvet. Legolas stared at them from his position in bed: body cradled in the soft down mattress, covers pulled up to his chest, arms folded over them. He had awoken when the bright disk had risen over the cliffs of Rivendell. The Mirkwood prince did not know how much time had passed since then. He felt content to never leave the soft embrace of the bed of the healing chambers of Imladris.

He let his eyes slowly take in the room again. He had been here several times before, when he had returned with injuries from hunting trips with Elrond's sons. There was a small table to the left of the bed, as well as a chair carved from oak, and beyond that, shelves and cabinets where Elrond kept his herbs and healing supplies. Legolas noticed his cloak draped across the foot of the bed, and his bow and quiver, along with his two white-handled knives, leaning against the bedpost. His adar had left them there, if nothing else, as comforting reminders of home.

There was a soft knock. Legolas's eyes flicked over to the door, but then turned back to the sunlight on his blankets. He did not want to be bothered by anyone. He knew it was probably only Elrond, coming to check on him, but the elven prince wanted to be left alone. He slowly extended his arms a bit so that the golden glow bathed them as well. He wanted to be left alone.

The knock sounded again, slightly louder this time. Legolas felt a bite of annoyance. Surely if it was Elrond he would have already entered by now, despite Legolas's silence. The twins had been by earlier, but, thinking Legolas had been sleeping, they had softly apologized and left him in peace. The prince was about to put his back to the door and try to ignore it in hopes that whoever it was would go away and not return, but no sooner had he thought of this, the door cracked opened wide enough for Aragorn to glance inside.

"Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed softly, opening the door wider when he saw that his friend was awake. "Ada told me you were here. May I come in?"

Legolas nodded and the man let himself in, closing the door behind him. He had wondered if Aragorn was in Imladris. He knew his friend had taken to wandering for many months at a time.

The ranger moved the oaken chair to the bedside and sank into it. He had not seen the Mirkwood prince in over a year, yet he noticed so many obvious changes in the elf. He was very thin - not the graceful slenderness he had always possessed, but the kind of thinness one acquires when they lose too much weight in too short a time. His expression was blank except for the distress betrayed by his blue eyes, which had dark circles beneath them. Aragorn frowned. This was so different from the Legolas he remembered.

"How do you feel, mellon nin?" Aragorn asked gently, his voice laced with concern. "Ada has told me you are ill."

Legolas avoided the man's eyes. He did not know why, but the man's presence made him uncomfortable. He did not feel like speaking to anyone. Aragorn waited patiently, his eyes searching his friend's face. It seemed so wrong, so out of place, to see the warrior prince sick and in bed.

"I miss my adar," Legolas said at length, looking at his hands. His voice was soft and Aragorn could hear a note of sadness in it. "I miss his comfort."

"Legolas…" the man whispered gently. He reached his hand out to squeeze his friend's shoulder comfortingly, but the elf did not respond to the gesture. He simply continued to watch his hands.

"I am sure your adar hated to leave you, mellon nin. I know that your home is being attacked by the evil spreading from the east. Your father has a duty to his people."

"Does he not also have a duty to his son?" came the bitter reply.

Aragorn was taken aback by the sudden hostility. Rarely had he heard his friend speak in such a harsh tone. The man was about to explain Thranduil's reasoning for bringing him to Imladris, but thought it best to change the subject. Legolas looked quite tearful.

"Have you eaten yet, mellon nin?" he asked gently. Legolas shook his head.

"What time is it?"

"It is not yet noon," Aragorn informed him. "Did you sleep well, at least?"

Again it took Legolas a while to reply. The elf rolled onto his side, away from the man. This caused Aragorn's frown to deepen. He could see his friend's form folded up beneath the blankets, him knees drawn up to his chest. When Legolas finally spoke, his voice was very quiet, almost as if had forgotten Aragorn was present and he were speaking his thoughts aloud to himself.

"I had a strange dream," he began. "Ada was killed. So was Lord Elrond…and Elladen and Elrohir…and you, Estel. You had all been killed. I was to spend all of my long years alone."

"Amin hiraetha, Legolas," Aragorn uttered softly. He was about to speak words of comfort, to assure him they were all safe, but Legolas continued before he was able to.

"I feel dead, Estel." The elf's voice was so quiet now that Aragorn had to lean forward to hear him. "That I died long ago, and I am only alive because my heart beats in my breast. Inside, I feel empty. But it is a painful emptiness. I no longer feel love for the trees or for my people." He was shaking visibly beneath the blankets.

Aragorn felt as if someone had sunk their knuckles into his stomach.

"Have you been taken by the sealonging?"

"Nay, Estel, I care not for the sea," came the weary reply. "I do not care for anything anymore."

The words were spoken with such despair that Aragorn felt a strong and sudden urge to embrace his friend. This was not the Legolas he knew, not at all. Though he was relieved that Legolas did not long for the sea, there was still terror in his heart for his friend. He would not have thought Legolas capable of feeling such grief.

"Hebo estel, Legolas," the man said, more forcefully than he intended. He took a deep breath, calming himself before he spoke again. "My adar will free you from this suffering."

"Lord Elrond cannot heal this suffering, Estel. No one can."

Aragorn leaped to his feet with such force that the chair was overturned, the bang startling Legolas into turning onto his back and hoisting himself up with one arm.

"I do not believe that. I will not believe it! If ada cannot heal you, I will!" The man grasped Legolas by the shoulders and forced him to look at him. "I swear to you, I will not let an age of suffering be your fate. I will die before I allow it to happen!"

But Legolas was weeping silently now, his hands weakly trying to remove Aragorn's from his shoulders.

"Saes [Please], Aragorn, I cannot tolerate anymore pain."

The man realized that he had shocked and scared his friend with his sudden, desperate outburst, and he immediately pulled him into a gentle embrace.

"Amin hiraetha, mellon nin. Amin hiraetha. I did not mean to be harsh. I am frightened, Legolas. I am worried about you."

Legolas pulled away. Tears still clung to his eyelashes, but he nodded, showing Aragorn that he understood and that he had forgiven him.

"Leave me, Estel," the elf said softly, though he continued to choke on the strangled sobs that would not subside. "I wish to be alone."

Aragorn took a few steps back, his shoulders slumped. He did not want to leave his friend to cry alone. He had upset his friend, albeit unintentionally, and it did not seem fair to walk away without alleviating the pain he had caused. But he could not disrespect Legolas, and so he acknowledged the request.

Legolas watched him go, the room and the man blurring as fresh tears welled in his eyes. He closed them as he heard the door shut. He could feel the tears escape from beneath his lids, rolling slowly over his smooth skin. His words had hurt his friend. What ailed him was hurting them both. The elf felt the need to go after him, to apologize, but his legs would not obey. Instead, he reached for his cloak, his arm moving jerkily as if hindered by an invisible force, and laid down again. He crumpled the soft grey material into a ball and hid his face in it, his knees coming to his chest. Only then did he let his anguish tear from his throat in raw, agonized cries.

Aragorn was walking quickly from the healing chambers. The hard knot in his throat would not go away. Guilt clawed at his very soul. He was terrified at what could happen to Legolas if his suffering continued. His friend did not deserve to be in pain.

The man blindly seized a vase from a small table he was passing and hurled it at the stone floor with a scream of frustration. It smashed, the pieces scattering in every direction. He squatted against the wall, panting and holding his head in his hands.

"Estel?"

Aragorn looked up, his hands still folded over his mouth. Elladan and Elrohir were watching him from a doorway across the hall, having heard the yell and the shattering glass. When Aragorn remained silent, the twins approached him.

"Estel, what is it?" Elladan asked, crouching so he was at eye level with the man, Elrohir standing not far behind him. They wore identical frowns, their brows creased in exactly the same place.

"I need to speak with ada," came Aragorn's quiet response. He stood, using the wall for support. The twins were still looking at him with much concern.

"You are not hurt?" Elrohir queried, giving his foster brother a searching look. Aragorn shook his head and was about to begin picking up the larger pieces of the destroyed vase, but Elladan gently caught his arm.

"Nay, mellon nin. We will clean this up later. Let us take you to ada."

The twins led him away, down a flight of stone steps that went outside - the quickest way to Elrond's study.

Elrond tapped on the door of his healing chambers. He was surprised to hear Legolas tell him to enter. He pushed the door open, bearing a tray. On it were a dish of fruit, some soft cheese, a few slices of bread, and a small jar of honey. He placed it on the table next to the bed and turned to his patient.

Legolas was sitting in the middle of the bed, his bow in his hands. His cloak was smoothed over his lap. He did not look up even as he felt Elrond's eyes on him.

"Legolas," Elrond said gently. "I would like you to eat something."

"I am not hungry, Lord Elrond." Legolas turned his gaze to that of the lord of Imladris, but upon seeing the stern look in the older elf's eyes, he put his bow and cloak aside and moved to sit at the edge of the bed. There was something about the look Elrond was giving him that reminded him so much of his adar that he found himself doing as he was told despite his lack of appetite.

Elrond righted the chair that was still on its back and sat down. He watched Legolas carefully, but did not speak until the prince had finished the small lunch.

"When your adar informed me of your condition, he was only able to tell me what he knew," Elrond began. "You have not spoken to him much about how you have been feeling."

Legolas's eyebrows came together over his questioning eyes.

"Estel told me what happened this morning. I understand now why your adar was unable to heal you. I do not think your ailment is of a physical nature, as he believed, but one that harms your spirit."

Legolas looked away. Elrond calmly stood and walked to the edge of the bed. When he lowered himself next to Legolas, the younger elf tried to move away, but Elrond firmly took hold of his wrists.

"Stay, Legolas," he said, keeping his voice soft. "Do not fear me, ernil. I only want to heal you. It is true such an ailment is so rare among elves I have never seen it, but I cannot even attempt to heal you unless I know how you feel."

Legolas slowly raised his eyes. The question in them had deepened. Elrond also noticed the whites burned red with shame.

"I need you to tell me what hurts, pen neth. Do not be ashamed."

Legolas frowned but remained silent. Elrond gently placed his hand over the prince's heart, so that Legolas understood.

"I need you to tell me what hurts in here."


End file.
